[A/N: Hello and welcome to MHA: My Pro Hero Harem Life(someone definitely used this name before but oh well).
To start off, I will warn that this is a harem, a lite gamer system, a slow burn, and a weak to strong fic.
If any of those things turn you away, I am sorry, but I like my novels spicy, cultured, but with a story shoved in between those glorious mountains we call 'plot'.
Secondly, the MC is going to make some mistakes, he is human, and I refuse to make him a Mary Sue.
There are dozens if not hundreds of MHA novels like that on the site, so go read those if that is what you want. Character development is going to be a big thing for the MC, so please don't drop because bro isn't immediately op or a badass. (I may never beat the 'braindead MC' one star reviews, but I will try.)
Thirdly, there is romance and lemons, this fanfic at its foundation is a gooner fic through and through, but I will try my best to make you 'come' for the smut but stay for the story. Relationships will take time to develop, and this might sound crazy, but some women will just be acquaintances or friends with the MC and will not join the harem. To put it simply, not every heroine will throw themselves at him, I am trying to make it as organic as possible.
Lastly, this is an AU, so canon is a suggestion, not a law.
And also, because of my overwhelming horniness, there are a few gender bends to spice things up, so be forewarned, but the characters won't change much if at all personality wise.
I hope you read, and good feedback is always a plus, but as a warning in advance, I will delete reviews or comments that complain about the harem and gamer elements despite there being warnings. It's crazy how many fics I read where people get mad or disappointed but the tags clearly stated it.
Par for the course on webnovel I suppose…
Anyways, hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!
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You know your life went down the wrong street when you don't even remember if you drank last night.
I smacked dried lips, then winced at the splitting headache already rearing its ugly head as I lifted myself up from a soft surface.
My stomach churned, and I had to use most of my already meager strength to try and not hurl.
I failed, miserably, and before my stomach uppercutted whatever I had eaten the night before through my throat and onto the floor, I managed the briefest moment of clarity before my eyes squeezed shut again.
Carpet.
I was on all fours puking my brains out on a beige carpet, not the shitty gray tiles that should cover every inch of my crappy apartment.
The gears in my head started turning, but any questions of why or how that was were stopped when the dizziness took over and I suddenly lost my strength, not even caring as I collapsed onto a puddle of my own vomit, curling up and wishing I could just pass out already or die; preferably the second option.
Unfortunately, this was reality, and after a minute of wallowing in agony and worthless prayers thrown at any random religions I could think of, the headache waned for a moment, parting like curtains as I slowly cracked open eyes that had crusted over.
The ceiling stared back at me, metaphorically of course, but I stared right back at it, knowing that it was not the one I woke up to everyday.
I might not have ever spent even a minute of my life paying attention to it, but I could instantly tell it was unfamiliar.
I wasn't in my apartment.
My mind wandered to the possibility of it being Sarah's, but just the thought of her had me shove it away, mostly because I refused to even think of that bitch a second longer than needed.
Groaning in agony, I sat up, grimacing at the horrid stench that permeated the air and stung my eyes.
Coughing, and swallowing the rising consequences of last night that was lingering in my throat, I carefully dragged my eyes across a room of unfamiliar decorations, cabinets, counters, furniture, and walls; each one making my heart rate grow faster.
Not long after, a strong sense of wrongness gripped me, my fight or flight response overtaking the fogginess of my hangover, all my senses suddenly very aware of things I usually never noticed.
First were my clothes, and I glanced down at them and held my breath, because I didn't own a red hoodie, and I especially didn't own the belly that protruded underneath it.
I was different, in every way I could think of. My nose in my vision, the tips of my hair that were brown and not black, the stubbiness in my fingers as I brought them up to look at, and finally the voice that spoke my very thoughts.
"What the fu-"
I shut my mouth, knowing in an instant the words that came out were in a language I should not know or understand, yet I did.
A panic attack started to grip me like a vice, and I found myself frantically looking for something to give me any hint of what the hell was going on.
That's when I saw it, resting on its side right below a dent in the wall that was suspiciously shaped like it.
A mask, one of metal, and when it rang back familiar in my mind, my body froze.
It was my hero mask.
'Wait, my hero mask?'
I didn't get much of a choice when without any warning twenty years of someone else's life hit me like a speeding truck, bulldozing over every coherent thought I had as I fell right back onto my own vomit as cold darkness greeted me.
In that darkness, brief images of someone else's childhood flashed by, almost like standing next to a busy highway and only getting glimpses of the passing cars.
I had no idea who—'Wait no,' it was Takashi Fumetsu's childhood, one where he was ridiculed for a Quirk that made him overweight, and forced him—a child—to consume over six thousand calories a day.
I saw memories of how it strained his family finances, the guilty look in his Father's eye because it was a mutation of his Quirk that Takashi developed at the age of eight, and the stress put on his mother as she was the main financial contributor of the family.
'Quirk?'
Despite my shock at the realization, I was forced to stay a simple bystander, able to vividly feel the strong emotions attached to his memories, and as his teenage life started to flicker in front of me, I noticed they were becoming clearer, lasting longer than the previous ones each time.
The days spent cooped up in his room playing games, the lack of IRL friends, the time he worked out to try and lose the weight but gave up halfway through, the relief when he accepted he didn't have the will to change, the hatred for anyone good looking, and the overbearing guilt as his Mother's hair grew thinner and whiter.
'Why, why am I seeing this?'
The next stage of Takashi's life overwhelmed me, my brain locked in on a single memory that physically burned itself into my very soul.
The movement of the officer's lips as he told Takashi about how his parents were killed in a villain attack, how they tried to sit him down and failed, and how one of the newer officers was unsure what to do but asked if he needed water as he fell to his knees.
The emptiness inside him after that event overwhelmed me, sinking its claws into my mind and dragging me further into his memories.
Then, suddenly a spark, an ambition that he had never had before, one that pushed him to want to become a hero with a Quirk that wasn't the best, to make it to the illustrious UA university and become the number one hero.
And, despite hearing the jeers girls and classmates made at his triple chin and body, how he wasn't the brightest in school even when he studied hard, how loudly he breathed in class and how the teacher would beg him to quiet down, the loneliness after losing his parents as he spent countless days in his room refusing to shower, and the determination to put the villain who killed his parents behind bars.
All of it fueled him, but it was just enough for Takashi Fumetsu to barely make it, his fire dwindling quickly.
Attending a university that was ranked twentieth in the nation didn't help him much, especially as it was one that focused more on its mathematics courses more so then its hero one. Offering only two years of tutelage instead of the three or four that most of the top Hero schools adopted.
I slowly watched the downward spiral once Takashi graduated, his hopes of heroism trashed as he was stuck doing paperwork, his patrols in areas out of the public eye because his looks were unappealing to the masses, and the failure to avenge his own parents as he watched All Might put the villain that had killed them behind bars.
Then, two memories stood parallel, the night Takashi Fumestu sat within his apartment downing bottle after bottle, and the night Damien Ramirez did the same.
The night they both died.
'Enough.'
I sucked in every ounce of air I could, feeling as if it was my first time doing it ever, each one shaky and uncertain as my lungs and heart threatened to leap out of my body.
"Holy-" I breathed in harshly. "Shit."
My Hero Academia, I was in the body of someone in the world of My Hero Academia.
The realization was absurd, and maybe I should have questioned it more, tried to use logic of how that was simply impossible, but when twenty years of someone else's life is forcefully shoved into your brain, there really isn't much to argue against it.
I continued to stay sprawled out on the carpet, focusing solely on my breathing, patiently getting my new body under control before I somehow gave myself a heart attack.
Slowly, the headache, the confusion, and the emotions that belonged to Takashi faded with every blurred minute, and after fifteen of them, I finally sat up.
"Well," my voice didn't sound as alien, almost feeling right if I was being honest. "That was definitely something."
I, or whatever "I" even meant now, struggled to my feet, moving to a fairly large kitchen and knowing exactly where something to quench my thirst and get the taste of bile out of my mouth was.
Of course, opening the fridge I saw it stocked full, ignoring most everything to grab one of the twenty litre sodas out and opening it, not carrying as it fizzed over and spilled onto the floor.
I drank, knowing that soda was probably not the best thing for someone who had just drunk themselves into an early grave, but I was parched and didn't care.
I burped loudly after finishing it, tossing the plastic container in the vague area I knew the trash can was and heading toward the bathroom.
I noticed all the doorways were wider, and with a bit of fear, I stepped into a bathroom that was both mine and not.
I couldn't ignore the reflection in the mirror, and the feeling of regret, shame, and whatever else kept me utterly silent as I looked.
Beady gray eyes, a triple chin that literally hid my neck, blonde hair sticky and matted to my head, rolls of fat that strained against my clothes, and a look of defeat.
"Damnit," I grit my teeth, knowing what I was going to see but still feeling cheated.
I hadn't been the most handsome or fit guy, but I had been above average, and to be shoved into this body without even a choice made rage wash over me like a tsunami.
Although, it subsided when I suddenly jumped as my hands gripped the sink and tore off a chunk of porcelain with little effort.
I blinked, remembering that I had a super power now, a Quirk.
I stared at the chunk of sink in my hand, and let the fact I was not just human sink in, the barest hint of a smile gracing my lips.
'Wait, what was my Quirk again?'
The name and its actual use hadn't been shown to me, and Takashi had ignored it for most of his childhood, not even he or any Quirk doctors understanding it in its entirety. A bit of strength, unnaturally large, and the ability to take some punishment was what it exhibited, and so it was simply categorized as a mutation.
Luckily, I got my answer a second later, unfortunately though, it came as a blue screen sliding across my vision.
Maybe I was going crazy, but there it was, clear as day, a status screen floating in front of my eyes.
[ Name: Takashi Fumestu.
Age: 20
Weight: 550lbs
Height: 5'11
Class: none(selection needed)*
Quirk: Shrug(LV2)*
Strength- 35
Speed- 10
Dexterity- 5
Constitution- 100
Endurance- 11
Charm- 3
]
Absurd, it was downright insane, but I read each line slowly despite that, and when I went back to my Quirk and thought about getting a description, I all but started laughing once one popped up.
[Shrug(LV2): allows you to sometimes ignore or shrug off damage from Quirks.]
[Shrug] sounded strong, but once memories of Takashi not being able to continuously replicate it when he trained or the few times he actually fought in battle surfaced, most of my expectations were quelled.
Although the 'LV2' and the fact I had stat points gave me hope, but even then it was still a lot to take in.
I closed the screen with just a thought, which was more confirmation that I wasn't hallucinating, and stood in silence.
This wasn't how I expected my night to go, not when I opened that first bottle of Hennessy, nor after the second or third.
I had expected to wake up in my apartment hung over, forced to drag myself to a gas station job I loathed, wondering when my life took such a drastic turn.
Maybe the drugs, the fact my parents hadn't reached out to me after I lost my scholarships once I got caught with said drugs, maybe the fact I was cheated on by my girlfriend, or maybe I didn't want to bust my ass for a IT degree that would only get me in the door.
'Maybe.'
I exhaled, then decided to take a shower, which was its own form of torture, but thankfully Takashi's memories were like a guide, a teacher that showed me what he struggled with for the last twelve years of his life.
Once relatively clean and out of breath, I made my way back into the living room of my new apartment, bringing up my status every few seconds to make sure it was still there, knowing it was my inkling of hope to change my lot in life.
Standing in the midst of my new apartment, I took a slow look around.
'Bottom of the barrel huh, nothing changed, new body be damned.'
However, even if I went from one crappy situation to the next, at least I had a fresh start.
The shock from all the revelations probably stopped me from breaking down, but I was never one for stuff like that, I kind of lived and breathed the sink or swim mentality.
I was just never a good swimmer.
I looked at the puddle of vomit that was definitely going to leave a stain, the stench actually helping to push me forward, my mind set on cleaning it and hoping my landlord wouldn't be too mad.
I found an actual smile on my face, a rarity in both lives, but hopefully that could change going forward.
I was technically a superhero now after all.